I'll Be Home For Christmas
by DarkJisushiku
Summary: [Finished!] The year is 1998 and the entire city is tainted with the scars of crinsom blood... Kaoru keeps screaming at a man who'll never return... Misao is hundled in the corner, wanting to leave... Megumi has lost her will to love... [AU] [REVISED]
1. Wanting A Return

**_Welcome to the Revised Edition of Dark Jisushiku's_ I'll Be Home For Christmas. _All short stories are angst and tragic. (Sorry, but that's my strong suit when it comes to writing.) Please, enter..._**

**Title: I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Warnings:_ AU. Set in the 1990's, in a large city. _**

**Couple: _KENSHIN x KAORU_**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything, be it Rurouni Kenshin or the song "I'll be home for Christmas." If you haven't ever heard this song, then you really must not have a life. It is one of the greatest Christmas songs _EVER_! (If you want to hear a good version of it, you should hear Bing Crosby sing it! )

**Author's Notes:** This was orginally my second fanfic. After much disaster, I had to repost it... Sorry, to all those who have been waiting for the last chapters... Well, here it is! And it's finally finished! Thanks for waiting! Please, R&R! I welcome flames, because I want to roast s'mores tonight!

* * *

_** I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree**_  
  
The calendar hanging from the wall read 1978, but it was really twenty years after that date. The wallpaper was coming down, desperately clinging to its glue like a starving leech. A two-foot tall book shelf had been knocked to the floor. Ants were streaming overhead, working through the cracks in the ceiling. The smell of beer hung in the room, mixing with the clouds of dust and the drops of rain. The only window was a wide, picture window with a hole in the glass, probably from a stray baseball from the alley. Several bullet holes also accompanied the baseball's puncture. It was a miracle that the whole window hadn't come crashing to the floor in a downpour of shattered glass, cutting the wooden floors and the wood walls. There was a large cavity in the far left corner of this tiny room, where you could see that the wood had been ate away by termites. Something (or even someone) must have fell through years ago, descending swiftly down to the second floor of the building.  
  
This apartment building used to belong to the ritziest neighborhood in the 1970s. It was still in the same neighborhood, but things had changed. The alley below was now used for gun fights between rival gangs and the police department was always in the area. The rich heirs and heiresses had moved out the city. The retired millionaires had found better places to live. The city now reeked. Once in this inferno, you couldn't ever get out. In the winter, the snow was spotted with blood. The streets were ceaselessly defiled with cans and waste. Homeless people littered the metropolitan alleyways, their only guarantee was their short life span. Gun smoke was more common that city smog here. And the only pollution that people even cared about was their human morale. Everyone with some sense had left years ago... Everyone except...her.  
  
_**Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the lovelight gleams  
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams**_  
  
There was a television set on the floor of that apartment that was constantly playing. A voice could always be heard from the alley below, reciting the same words over and over. He said it, day and night, night and day: "Don't worry. I'll be back in a couple of weeks. I'll be home soon, in time for Christmas. I love you. Please, please, don't worry. I'm coming home." That promise was swore to her every day, every hour, every five minutes. But the only one who ever came and went from that apartment was a young girl with long, raven-black hair. The man who seemed to promise so much was never seen.  
  
But don't be surprised - that man died twenty years ago.  
  
The only piece of furniture in that room was a gray, dulling couch, eaten away by moths and time. And the dark-haired girl was usually found draped on it, lying as still as a corpse. Her chest barely moved as she inhaled and exhaled the tainted air. Her face was turned to the side, her red, swollen eyes watching the TV that laid on the floor, in front of the couch. The remote was in her hand at all times, and she rewinded that video tape every ten minutes, playing it day and night.  
  
_ ** I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree**_  
  
The man on the video was well-known by the police department, for he had been an assassin for the government years ago. But time had changed, and now they just referred to him as "the rebel." He had had years of dying men's blood stained onto his hands. His palms, over forty years ago had been white and clean, but in 1978, his hands were soaked in rich, red blood that had intoxicated him like wine. His long, fiery hair had always been tied back, and in the video he had made no exception. His large, blue eyes were joyful on the outside, but does she see invisible tears crawl out of his eyes and glide down his cheeks, some touching his old cross-shaped scar? Had he cried for her?  
  
"Do not worry, Miss Kaoru, I will be back in a short time," he would say to her when she would restart the tape. "I've got some business in Kyoto, that I have. Don't worry. I'll be back in a couple of weeks, in time for Christmas. I'll be home soon. I love you. Please, please, don't worry. I'm coming home."  
  
At midnight every night, the man would stop his flow of promises, interrupted by a long, sorrowful cry: "You - were - supposed - to - come - back - KENSHIN!" And the breaking of bottles could be heard in the streets. "YOU - WEREN'T - SUPPOSE - TO - DIE!" And then the sobs would be muffled for a second or two. Then... "KENSHIN, YOU BAKA! YOU WERE SUPPOSE TO COME BACK!" Then her cries would die yet again. And then... "KENSHIN! KENSHIN! COME - BACK - HERE! Y-OU C-C-CAN'T R-UUN FR-FROM ME!" And her screaming would continue, illuminating the city nights with despair and anguish until one-thirty in the morning. Then Kenshin's voice would play on, blending with the gunshots and police sirens from the malignant streets below, forming a bittersweet opera of despair, devastation, and death. And every now and then, Kaoru would join in the tune.  
  
_ **Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the lovelight gleams  
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams**_  
  
The calendar hanging from the wall read 1978, but it was really twenty years after that date. The wallpaper was coming down, desperately clinging to its glue like a starving leech. A two-foot tall book shelf had been knocked to the floor. Ants were streaming overhead, working through the cracks in the ceiling. The smell of beer hung in the room, mixing with the clouds of dust and the drops of rain. Time had stopped in the dusty apartment when the liquor started its lethal entrance. Kaoru was trapped in the past by her own memories. Even though it had been twenty years ago since his death, three words still rang in her ears:_ "I'm coming home."_  
  
_**If.. only..in..my...dre...ams**..._


	2. Wanting An Out

**Title: I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Warnings:_ AU. Set in the 1990's, in a large city. _**

**Couple: _AOSHI x MISAO_**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin. (But you can bet I wish I do!!!) Please review! I welcome flames too, but I can't say I really want them.

* * *

**_I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree_**  
  
A shattered mirror sat on the floor, leaning against the rotting wall. A wet newspaper was sprawled out on the floor, reading December 24th, 1997. Dust caked the ground in a layer of deep grim, hiding the scurrying ants that had came inside the building because of the soft, white snowfall outside. The ceiling had many holes, in which the snowdrift flew into the room, bringing the wintry feeling into the somber room. A bookshelf publicized the black and white photos of a rich family who once lived in the broken penthouse. Now no one lived here, except the ants...and her.  
  
She was huddled on a moth-eaten rug, that in its previous life was probably a brilliant shade of warm red, but now was an ugly dirt color. She laid on her side, her knees curled under her chin, her hands clinging to her own warmth. The snow had engulfed her scanty frame, giving her a icy white evening gown. Her braid was tossed on the ground, waving slightly when the winter breeze blew. She shivered. Silent tears crawled down her pale face, dripping off her chin.  
  
When the gun shots started up again in the streets below, she buried her tear-stained face in her legs, crying like an infant. The city was corrupted with crime. Instead of the vivifying stars at night, they had a crestfallen sky of smog. The curses yelled through the lewd alleys mingled together, forming a boisterous carol that was sang throughout the nation. The homeless sat in the streets, asking for mercy that they would never see. The runaways hid in the alleyways, only to be caught in gang crossfire before they ever got the sense to come home. Life was a meaningless trial of strength: If you were strong you lived, if you were weak you died. Cunning couldn't keep you alive. Friends were illusory myths, forgotten by these metropolitan gangs. Friends weren't real. Love wasn't true. Life was a waste, a inferno in which no one could leave the fires of malevolence.  
  
**_Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the lovelight gleams  
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams_**  
  
A letter laid crumbled in the girl's hand. Every now and then, when the gunfire silenced, she would cautiously sit up and read the letter:  
  
_Dear Misao,  
  
I miss you. Please, meet me at the park on 4th street at 8:30 on Christmas Eve. We're leaving this Christmas.  
  
Aoshi_  
  
Aoshi was going to take her away. He'd had worked relentlessly to get bus tickets and they were going to leave together. They would find a quiet, sleepy town in the country. They would be content soon. The gunfights would be far, far away from the defiled streets of this city. All the tears she had cried would be left behind, staining the floors of all the abandoned rooms she'd slept in. But life would soon be better. They would never go in fear of fatal injuries again.  
  
At eight o'clock, she climbed to her feet, unsteadily. A gunshot sounded from some far off street, and Misao fell to her knees, trembling with apprehension. Silence... She crawled out of the room, her body low to the ground. Her dark eyes were red from her bountiful tears that poured down her face in a rain everyday. She got to the top of the stairs and heard another shots. Yells raised up in a multitude of deadly chorus. More shots, that echoed like thunder in a storm. Crying, Misao sat down, holding her quivering body. "Aoshi...," she whispered hoarsely. "Aoshi..." She pulled her knees up to her face, burying her face in her legs, shivering. It was freezing outside, but it was nothing compared to her body heat. Her temperature had plummeted, forcing her to rattle with anxiety.  
  
The breaking of glass made her jump up, falling down the stairs. Her screams added to the opera of death outside. She collapsed on the first floor, making dust shoot up from the ground, drifting in a could overhead. They were close - that had been her window that had broken. She laid motionless, sobbing silently. "Aoshi, Aoshi..."  
  
**_I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree_**  
  
The gunfight lasted for the entire night. Never did Misao move from her solitary place on the floor. She moaned all night. Aoshi had probably left. He was probably gone. At two, the police managed to subdue the savage gangs. The gunfire had stopped. But Misao's heart was still riddled with fear.  
  
"Misao?" a quite voice called from the front of the house.  
  
She stayed motionless, fear over-sweeping her like an ocean. She been rattling on the dusty floors, and now was cringing at the thought of an intruder in the building. She dug her nails into her own skin, crying tears of pain.  
  
"Misao? Oh, Misao?" The voice was woeful, as though at his dreams had been destroyed with one shot of a gun. "Misao, the tickets are gone..." He stood behind her, facing her back. "I'm sorry..." A wet tear dropped into her pale cheek. He sat down, sighing heavily.  
  
"Aoshi...?" she whispered, turning around. A young man with chocolate hair was holding his knees under his chin. His sapphire blue eyes were moist... Was he crying? He was looking past, seeing things that were never there. His face was blank. She sat up, and his eyes came back from the distant gaze he had had. They stares met each other.  
  
**_Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the lovelight gleams  
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams_**  
  
He had been robbed. The tickets were gone. Their future had been lost in the turmoil of this twisted world. And he was crying. The strongest man Misao had ever known was crying. She pulled herself into his arms, clinging onto his body. And she sobbed with him. They had to get out...they had to leave...  
  
A shattered mirror sat on the floor, leaning against the rotting wall. A wet newspaper was sprawled out on the floor, reading December 24th, 1997. Dust caked the ground in a layer of deep grim, hiding the scurrying ants that had came inside the building because of the soft, white snowfall outside. And two huddled bodies laid on the floor, holding each other in their arms. "Merry Christmas, Misao."  
  
**_If.. only..in..my...dre...ams..._**


	3. Wanting A Love

**Title: I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Warnings:_ AU. Set in the 1990's, in a large city. _**

**Couple: _SANO x MEGUMI_**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or the song. However, the plot is mine and no one is allowed to take it without permission. 'Kay?

* * *

**_I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree_**  
  
The golden locket said, "Until the music ends: 1991." That was seven years ago when love was forever and lust was passionate... when the music played without end. The stunning, lying necklace was swinging from a small nail in the wall. The small office was cramped, with a desk that was too large for the room covered with files. Ants and spiders crawled up the rotting walls; cockroaches hustled over the wooden floor. Cabinets outlined the walls, threatening to break under the weight of the dusty portfolios. There were cases of influenza, pneumonia, and ear infections, but in the last few years there were mainly gunshot wounds, bloody stabs, and drug overdoses. And these were the patients of a pediatrician. A very lonely, broken pediatrician...  
  
"It's Christmas Eve," the midnight-haired woman sighed, looking out the small window at the dirty street-filth. It was snowing an acid shower tonight, and the local homeless population was scampering for shelter. Bon- fires were burning in trash cans, but they only held a lingering warmth. Her clinic would stay open tonight - so many muggings, burglaries, knifings, gang wars, and rapes happened during the holidays...  
  
It was terrifying when you realized that this lewd metropolis had even soiled the world's most loving holiday. The sharing spirit was still intact, though - they shared gunshots, knife wounds, needles, liqueur bottles, cigarettes... So many caring people out there, she thought wryly. The irony of her job tonight was bitter and cruel. No sugar plums tonight, just many bloodied children.  
  
But this was what she choose to do... This was her life...  
  
**_ Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the lovelight gleams  
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams_**  
  
Knock. Knock. The pounding continued until she cautiously opened the door. A young man, probably nineteen at most, was breathing shallow, raspy gasps of air, leaning against the door frame. His left arm was clasping his side, pain mingling in the sweat that poured down his face. Another gang shooting, no doubt. Another kid left to drown in their own crimson life blood. He was near death, but she didn't treat young adults, just children. And yet... if she didn't treat him, he would have no where else to go. The hospitals were too apprehensive of young men and women. They didn't want the hassle of the trouble those young people could bring. Every other clinic was probably closed...  
  
The icy sweat poured down his face, as cinnamon eyes looked down on her. That tall and that skinny - he probably hadn't eaten in a week or so. Obviously homeless, braving this defiled world on his own. His short, ragged chocolate hair stood up on its own, waving in the chilly breeze. His white coat was made of the lightest cotton and didn't button or zip up to cover his firm, milky chest. God knew he was cold... His pants were much to short to fit him and he shoes were deteriorated. Bandages covers his wrists and ankles. Some saw this as a fashion statement - the doctor saw this a concealment of bad wounds.  
  
"Can I...?" the rough, street-smart voice murmured.  
  
She nodded, helping him in.  
  
**_ I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree  
_**  
The wound was deep, jagged. It took some work, but she was able to pry the fiendish bullet from his waist. Then stitches were required, but she had some difficulty administrating them as the young punk was entirely suspicious of the needle and special thread. After it was done, though, she brewed them a batch of hot cocoa with candy canes, as she waited for her next patient.  
  
They sat in her office, listening... to gunshots, police sirens, foul-mouthed gangs, store alarms, children's screams, women's pleads, men's curses... A endless hymn of dying values. This was the end of the golden age of humanity. They were all slowing running each other into the ground... Soon there would be only one of them left standing, gun in hand, and he'd be standing a graveyard of corpses. And then what? Would the bloodlust come again, yet this time, no solace could be found for such an instinct? Then would that hapless body turn the gun on their own head, just so they could see the blood spill out...?  
  
"Humans are pitiful creatures," she whispered out loud, shivering at the sound of another shrill bullet in the night.  
  
"Hmph," was the reply from her silent companion. Such intelligent talk did not suit the boy. Besides... he was busy admiring the locket on the wall. After a long pause, he suddenly questioned, "'Until the music ends?' A gift from your husband?"  
  
The beauty started, then turned to him, staring firmly at the gangster. Then her hard, indifferent gaze went to the dismal locket. "That," she stated in a cruel, malevolent voice, "is a trifle that was given to a pathetic, half-witted girl who once loved a Walk-Away-Joe."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"The said music personified the 'love' this man felt for her," she explained to the illiterate urchin. "It was suppose to be 'endless.' But..."  
  
"It ended?" he finished for her.  
  
"It had never began," she murmured dryly, a scowl on her radiant features. "Mother was right... That boy was really just a Walk-Away-Joe..."  
  
**_Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the lovelight gleams_**  
  
"Hey," he asked, getting up and beginning to leave. "Whassyur name?"  
  
"Megumi."  
  
"Hmmm... Megumi" He rolled it over on his tongue. "I'm Sanosuke, friends call my Zanza. See ya 'round, doc."  
  
As he closed the door, she quickly took the locket in her pale fingertips and hurled it at him. "Take it! I don't want it!" The sparkling gold hit the wood door, its 'clank' joining the sounds in the filthy, putrid streets outside. Zanza cracked the door open and reached back to claim the necklace. Then he was gone...  
  
_** I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams**_  
  
The golden locket said, "Until the music ends: 1991." That was seven years ago when love was forever and lust was passionate... when the music played without end. The stunning, lying necklace was swinging from a small nail in the wall. The small office was cramped, with a desk that was too large for the room covered with files. Ants and spiders crawled up the rotting walls; cockroaches hustled over the wooden floor. Cabinets outlined the walls, threatening to break under the weight of the dusty portfolios. There was one woman, crying and shivering in the frostbitten night. It was three in the sleepy morning...  
  
"Merry Christmas, Megumi," she sobbed.  
  
_** If.. only..in..my...dre...ams...**_


	4. Wanting A Family

**Title: I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Warnings:_ AU. Set in the 1990's, in a large city. _**

**Couple: _YAHIKO x TSUBAME_**

**Disclaimer: **Wish I may, wish I might! Please give me Kenshin tonight! :::voice from above answers, "In your dreams, girlie!"::: Oh, well, you heard the man upstairs. No deal...

**Author's Notes: **Shorter than the first three, but still very good!

* * *

_** I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree  
**_  
The paper that laid over the corpse's face was dated December 24th, 1998, but it was really the twenty-fifth. The deceased wore raunchy, skimpy clothes, all black with silver trimming and gray zippers. Oh, she must have only been around ten years old. Judging on the thick coat of plaster make-up on her soft face, her occupation was more risqué than most. Knock-off pearls were strung around her neck. Her bronze hair had been roughly chopped off at her shoulders. The temperature of her body suggested that she had slept all night in the blackening city snow. Tragically, she wasn't ever going to awake.  
  
He had stumbled upon her during the early morning. Like some fairytale princess, she laid in the deserted children's park, underneath the neon-yellow slide. First thing he did was remove the newspaper that covered her tired face. Her lips, chapped and blue, were parted slightly, as if she was still breathing. But she wasn't... He had checked. At first she seemed like she was sleeping. But her blue fingertips suggested something else...  
  
He just sat next to her, watching her with amount of disgust and curiosity. This was his fate. He was a homeless pick-pocket and this was his fate. And the fate of every other parentless child in this city's pathetic streets.  
  
The boy's plastic wristwatch was broken, but he could still hear the minutes tick by...  
  
**_ Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the lovelight gleams  
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams  
_**  
"I'm Yahiko," he told her, running a sandy hand through his ratty, ebony hair. It ruffled under his grimy hands. Somewhere, far away, a gunshot rang out. But he didn't acknowledge it... "My dad died before I was born. My mom died only a couple years ago. Granny passed away too. When the neighbors told me that, I didn't understand what 'passed away' meant. But they never explained. They took me in. And I lived with them 'til I turned nine - I'm twelve, y'know - and when I asked, 'When's Granny coming home?' they told me that she was never coming back..."  
  
He sighed, lightly brushing the dead girl's hands. They were cold and clammy.  
  
"'Passed away' means never coming back, but I didn't know that when I was six," he sniffed, eyes watering. "For three years I thought her and mommy and even dad was coming home..."  
  
He slumped down, curling up on the ground, head on her shoulder. "I thought... they'd come home...," he whimpered, burying his face in her cold skin. And he cried.  
  
Years of repressed tears, poured on to the skin of a dead child. The warm, salty streams streamed from his brown eyes and on to pale, blue skin. The painful liquid cleansed the departed soul's husk. And the snow began falling, covering them both in the depressing froth of this city....  
  
"I want to spend Christmas with them!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME? GRANNY...! MOM...! DAD...! WHY CAN'T WE SPEND CHRISTMAS TOGETHER? WHY - DID - YOU - LEAVE - ME - ALONE?"  
  
He stood up, still sobbing. "Why...? Why...? WHY...?"  
  
Then the broken heel of the girl's trashy pump caught his eye. His gaze was pulled up to her face. Peaceful, yet strained. Calm, yet miserable...  
  
He knelt beside her and whispered, "Do you miss your folks too? Did they die too? I bet you wanted to spend Christmas Eve singing carols and hanging stockings and junk like that... 'Bet you never thought that you'd be here, dead in the stupid snow..." Tears dropped on to the cold girl's face.  
  
"I can understand your wretchedness, kid," he told her, brushing her hair out of her closed, painted eyes.  
  
Digging in his pockets, he pulled out the only thing he had on his person: A stick of mint chewing gum. Popping it in his mouth, he gnawed it into a sticky mess. Then he silently pulled it from his mouth and began to roll it in his hands. A soft, warm wad of gum laid in his palm when he stopped rolling.  
  
Taking one long look at her face, he pressed the gum into her left hand and then curled the hand into a fist.  
  
"That's all I have," he muttered. "Merry Christmas, from one brat to another."  
  
**_ I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree_**  
  
"What's your name?" he wondered, drying his swollen eyes. The red, puffy orbs glanced at the metal bracelet on her wrist.  
  
It was made to look like silver, but was really just some old, twisted aluminum. Carved into the pliable solid was the inscription "TSUBAME."  
  
"Tsubame...," he whispered, stroking her lips with chilled fingers. "Is that your name?"  
  
Silence...  
  
"I'll remember that..."  
  
**_ Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the lovelight gleams  
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams_**  
  
The paper that laid over the corpse's face was dated December 24th, 1998, but it was really the twenty-fifth. The deceased wore raunchy, skimpy clothes, all black with silver trimming and gray zippers. Oh, she must have only been around ten years old. Judging on the thick coat of plaster make- up on her soft face, her occupation was more risqué than most. Knock-off pearls were strung around her neck. Her bronze hair had been roughly chopped off at her shoulders. The temperature of her body suggested that she had slept all night in the blackening city snow. In fact, the only warmth that radiated from the limp body was a ball of used gum in her hand. Beside her, a young boy sat.  
  
On his right hand was a broken watch and his left hand was a bracelet, engraved with a forgotten name.  
  
**_ If.. only..in..my...dre...ams..._**


	5. Wanting A Warmth

**Title: I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Warnings:_ AU. Set in the 1990's, in a large city. Spoiler on Saito having a wife, I guess. _**

**Couple: _SAITO x TOKIO_**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin. I really wish I did!!! Anyone willing to buy them for me?! Anyone?! Anyone at all...? And I still don't own the song.

* * *

_** I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree  
**_  
A kitten calendar had fallen off the wall. It read 1996, but it was truly two years past the date. The hospital room was too cramped, and a wilting bouquet was dying near her bedside. A soft-cover book laid on the table. It was snowing acid white pillows outside the window. The cold, cruel man sat stroking a soft, sleeping woman. The IV was stuck in her right hand, pumping. The man's hand traveled up and down the angel's feathery hair, petting her. She breathed softly. His hands were struggling to keep from wandering down to his cigarettes.  
  
'Don't smoke...,' he told himself. 'Tokio always hated the smell.'  
  
It wasn't the hospital's red signs that decreed "No Smoking!" or the various lung cancer patients in the ward... it was the woman's face that kept him from giving in to the addictive crave.  
  
"I'll visit you tomorrow. Merry Christmas, Tokio." The tall, lean man stood, sweeping himself away from his post. Then, with a tip of his hat, he strolled out of room. His blonde partner stood waiting for him.  
  
"I'll drive," the blonde suggested, but was met with a glare of disapproval.  
  
"I'll walk, Cho."  
  
The cold policeman let his hand stray up to his black, jagged hair, ruffling it in a very unusual manner. He placed his hand on his hip. The blonde stood aside, letting the wolflike man stalk out of the hospital.  
  
"Saito," groaned the blonde, sighing.  
  
**_ Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the lovelight gleams  
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams  
_**  
Saito walked home, but once he reached the small, cozy apartment building, he just kept walking. He went through his entire pack of cigarettes on his way to nowhere. But every time he decided to light one and place it between his lips, he just ended up throwing it into the dirty snow.  
  
He heard the yells of neighborhood punks teasing another hapless victim.... The sounds of store alarms and car alarms and random alarms... The screams and gunfire and shrieks of cars.... The roaring subways and crying children... The school bells and police sirens... All of it went by in a clap of thunder. The neon flashed and the music played - hard rock, country, hip-hop, and jazz all sounding at once in the clashing melody of the city. There were crimes polluting this fiendish pool of waste that they call the big city, but Saito could care less.  
  
"I'm not on duty tonight," he told himself. And he wasn't...but that didn't make ignoring the world's problems right. He knew that. And he didn't care.  
  
Two years. She had been in the hospital for two years. After an accident he couldn't prevent. Coma, that's was the doctors called it. Saito called it unfair. Tokio was his wife - the only person who he cared for. The only person who cared for him.  
  
Coma... It was like sleeping, just for a longer time...  
  
_** I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree**_  
  
"If I were to fall asleep, would anyone notice?" Saito mumbled to himself. He had found himself sitting in the snow, under a cherry tree, snow up to his waist. He shivered. "Maybe I should just sneak into Tokio's bed and sleep next to her for eternity. Then the hospital could close off the room and let us sleep 'til we die."  
  
Saito reached down to light another cigarette, but instead found his gun. He hadn't even noticed that was still in his uniform...  
  
"If we sleep forever, Tokio, will kami allow us to meet in our dreams?"  
  
He pulled out his gun, stroking it with his nimble, gloved fingers...  
  
"Or would just feeling your warmth be enough for this tired, old wolf?"  
  
His hand slipped out of the white glove...  
  
"If I could just slip next to you..."  
  
Numb fingers wrapped around the gun, fingering the trigger...  
  
"I hate being awake," he stated dryly. His vision blurred for half a second before returning back to an amber glare. "I hate being awake. I hate being awake. Being awake is overrated. Why can't I just sleep? Why can't I just fall down and sleep?"  
  
The gun brushed against his raven hair....  
  
"I WANT to sleep tonight. Too many nights of coming home late and lying in bed to wait for morning. The bed is cold - the house is cold - the street is cold - the hospital is cold," he growled. "And she's cold. She's always cold."  
  
He stood up, his gun still next to his head....  
  
"I WANT HER TO FEEL ME!" he shouted, all of his pent-up anger voiced in his tone. "I WANT LIFE'S TOUCH TO STIR HER IN POUNDING EMOTION! I WANT HER TO WAKE UP! JUST WAKE UP, TOKIO! WAKE UP!"  
  
His hand began shaking... 

"WAKE UP! WAKE ME UP FROM THIS COLDNESS!"  
  
...and Saito collapsed.

**_ Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the lovelight gleams_**

"Poor, Tokio-san," the doctor sighed. "That woman has no family. Her husband barely survives paying the medical bills."  
  
"And there's no chance at all that she'll ever wake up?" the nurse questioned, biting her lip.  
  
The doctor waved an impatient hand. "No, not a chance. The coma is rather severe."  
  
"Oh," murmured nurse, brushing back a lock of hair. She peered through the window that stared into Tokio's room. "It's nice that her husband is so devoted. If he left her, she'd probably never survive. Not in the state she's in, anyway."  
  
"Yes, and he visits her every day after his work, even though it's clearly making him depressive. Today he told me that if it wasn't for the fact that he was needed to pay her bills, he'd just lay down and die," the doctor murmured.

"Die? Isn't that a little harsh?" she gasped, hand flying over her mouth.

The old doctor sighed. "Not at all. He's alone, she's the only thing he has left. I really don't blame him for wanting to die either." He paused, weighing his next words. "If I lost my wife, along with everything else in this world, I would have already commited suicide..." A soft smile. "Look." He pointed into Tokio's room. "Even after all the stress and emotional abuse, he's still here every day."  
  
"But isn't visiting hours over, sir?"  
  
"Yes, but tonight's New Year's Eve. He deserves to make his new year wishes with his love. Especially after all the pain of last two years." The aged doctor smiled. "Who knows? Maybe she'll wake up this year."  
  
_**   
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams**_  
  
A kitten calendar had fallen off the wall. It read 1996, but it was truly two years past the date. The hospital room was too cramped, and a wilting bouquet was dying near her bedside. A soft-cover book laid on the bedside table. It was snowing acid white outside the window. The cold, cruel man sat stroking a soft, sleeping woman. The IV was stuck in her right hand, pumping. The man's hand traveled up and down the angel's feathery hair, petting her. She breathed softly. His hands were struggling to keep from wandering down to his cigarettes...  
  
It was hard...  
  
**_ If.. only..in..my...dre...ams..._**


	6. Wanting A Memory

**Title: I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Warnings:_ AU. Set in the 1990's, in a large city. _**

**Couple: _SHISHIO x YUMI_**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin. :tear: And I still don't own the song.

* * *

**_ I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree  
_**  
The two graves were side by lonesome side, unified by the date: April 22nd, 1987. But it was really eleven years after the tombstone's inscription. The graves held the names Makoto Shishio and his wife Yumi. The blue winter frost crawled up the tombstones, curling around the engraved letters, dishonoring the sleep of the deceased. Blanketing snow covered the ground, while spidery tuffs of mossy grass sprung forth, out of the December cold. Outside the bricks walls of this cemetery were the roars of the putrid city slime. This pathetic landmark for the dead held the only peace known to this big city. But it was an eerie peace, a solemn peace known as respect for the dead.  
  
The sky was dark and it was around midnight. Everything was slowly melting into the indifferent shadows, as a lone figure approached the grave site.  
  
"Hey, Miss Yumi," called out a spirited boy with chocolate hair, as he trotted over to the graves. He was about a boy of nineteen - almost a man. Clad in a fine, expensive leather trenchcoat it wasn't hard to see who had just gotten a raise. Black slacks were rimmed with muddy snow, as his black loafers put up with the frostbitten ground. In his white gloved hands, he bore one hot pink box and one white, rectangular box. "I brought candy canes," he cheered, opening the pink box of striped shepherd canes. The second box was forgotten in his arms..."Fresh from Kiki's."  
  
**_Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the lovelight gleams  
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams_**  
  
The boy sat on the ground and began licking one of the candies, his tongues caressing a sweetness that could not sustain his sorrow. The grimy, city snow floated down on him, chocolate hair being glazed with milk-white sprinkles. One feathery snowflake fell on his perfect, button nose, making him chuckle.  
  
"Mister Shishio, a lot has happened since my last visit. Now what should I tell you first?" mused the boy, glancing at the graves. "Oh, yes! Mister Cho, the sword-collector, has taken a job in criminal law nowadays! He's working at the police department down from the university, and his partner is that Mister Hajime Saito.... Poor wolf, I heard that his comatose wife has still not recovered.... It's so sad, y'know?"  
  
He chomped up the last bit of his first candy cane, then moved on to his second.  
  
"Speaking of the university - that kid pick-pocket is still there on the corner. I tried giving him a twenty the other day, but he wouldn't take it. For a thief he sure has a lot of pride, that's for certain. He's still in rags and all, but when I saw him today he was also wearing some large bracelet. I didn't get a good look, but I did notice that it had a GIRL'S name engraved in it. Ain't that a kick? Kid must be young than thirteen and he's getting more action than me! Ha, ha! Oh well..."

The white snow drifted down and the screech of a police car pursuding some creep sounded in the city streets.

"Kamatari's doing good - has a job in a beauty saloon...," he mumbled, ignoring the gunshots fired outside the graveyard. "Kama says it's nothing to great, but it pays the bills. I suppose that's exactly what I think of my job..."  
  
He paused, thinking of other news he had for his adoptive parents. The last time he had been here was a year ago, so he was trying to make it his priority to tell them everything that had changed in the city. This was his Christmas tradition, and even after an eleven years, he still held true to it.  
  
"Um...," he murmured. "I went to get my bike fixed at the auto-repair shop down from my apartment the other week. That Mister Aoshi Shinomori was there, still working like a dog for some table scraps. He fixed my motorcycle up real nice, so now it rides and runs like a dream. Poor guy, he's so much smarter than a mechanic. Too bad, another life wasted... That girl was waiting for him again. She's a roughed-up beauty with bright eyes and midnight hair... She really loves that Mister Shinomori...."  
  
He sighed, ruffling his hair through slender fingers.  
  
"I stopped by that woman-doctor's office today," he informed them. "Can you believe she's still open on Christmas day? Told me she was open all last night too! I think that's unbelievable. She certainly has dedication to her job... Poor woman, she's so lonely, though, so I brought her some gingerbread men I bought with the candy canes. She didn't say much, but I could tell that she was glad I made the time to stop by."  
  
A heavy sigh. The boy cocked his head upward, to the midnight heavens. Somewhere far away from the city, stars were shinning down and jitterbugging with the everlasting moon. But not here... The smog and the storm painted over such novelties. It was just a graying black tonight... Like always and forever more.  
  
Laughing lightly, he went on, saying, "That gang leader, Zanza, is still hanging around the neighborhood. This morning some idiot tried to mug him, but Zanza made sure that man went home in pieces... Granny Momo, the lady next door to me, said that the mugger had tried to steal a locket or something and that's why Zanza beat him up so badly. I'm not sure if her story is true, but it's a delicious piece of gossip."  
  
Now he was on his fifth candy cane, but the sweet, sugary taste of the hard candy never lasted.  
  
"Oh, and here's some sad news from downtown. That ten-year-old hooker's gone. Rumor has it that she died last night in the snow. I found out, because, when I went to take a special, homemade Christmas lunch to her, the police were at her apartment, questioning people on her family ties and such. Poor Tsubame, she was a sweet kid, who was just born into a bad life..."  
  
If Yumi was alive now, she would have been silently crying. And the boy could almost swear that he could hear a woman's tears...  
  
"Himura's wife was finally taken to an alcoholics' rehab," he mentioned, licking his sixth candy cane. "She's getting help for her drinking problem. But..." The boy frowned and then whispered, "But I think the only way she'll feel better is if Mister Himura comes back from death..."  
  
Shrugging, he chewed the candy cane to bits and ate it all up. But he didn't reach for more.  
  
**_I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree  
_**  
"Another Christmas," he muttered, looking at the graves. "Y'know, Miss Yumi? I saw a ball gown in a shop's window two days ago that would have fit you wonderfully. It was a creamy white, beaded with sparkling jewels on the top part. Then it had a full, puffy skirt, with a train that was really, really long." He smiled delicately. "So..." He reached for the white, forgotten box. "I bought it for you. Y'know, for Christmas?"  
  
Tender hands opened the box, reveling a stunning gown. Picking it up reverently, he draped it over the woman's grave. The gift just radiated beauty, so that even in the dead of night, onlookers could see the sparkling gems.  
  
"Pretty, isn't?" he asked. "Just like you, Miss Yumi. An astonishing elegance. Very splendid. Now you and Mister Shishio can dance together... Just scoop up some of that stardust and sprinkle it on. I can guarantee that, if you do, you'll look more magnificent than Venus herself."  
  
Golden laughter rippled out from his voice box, bringing some temporary joy to the gloom.  
  
"That's about it," he concluded, that gentle smile still gracing his features. "I don't think there's anything else that's important..."  
  
He swept off the ground and dusted off his slacks.  
  
"I better be leaving now, Mister Shishio. I hope you have a Merry Christmas," he whispered, bowing in honor of the dead. "Don't worry, I'll come back next year. I'll be seeing ya... or not seeing ya, that is." And he gracefully walked away, never looking back....  
  
**_ Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the lovelight gleams  
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams  
_**  
The two graves were side by lonesome side, unified by the date: April 22nd, 1987. But it was really eleven years after the tombstone's inscription. The graves held the names Makoto Shishio and his wife Yumi. The blue winter frost crawled up the tombstones, curling around the engraved letters, dishonoring the sleep of the deceased. Blanketing snow covered the ground, while spidery tuffs of mossy grass sprung forth, out of the December cold. Outside the bricks walls of this cemetery were the roars of the putrid city slime. This pathetic landmark for the dead held the only peace know to this big city. But it was an eerie peace, a solemn peace known as respect for the dead. The only cheer in the place was a forgotten, half-eaten, pink box of Christmas candy canes and evening gown no one would ever wear...  
  
**_If.. only..in..my...dre...ams..._**


	7. Wanting A Better City

**Title: I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Warnings:_ AU. Set in the 1990's, in a large city. Spoiler on Kamatari's gender..._**

**Couple: _None. Just a bunch of rowdy friends._**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin... I do not own the song... I do not own Denny's... Blah, blah, blah...

**Author's Notes: **Welcome, ladies and gents, to our _last_ short tale of woe and misery.... A tale of friendship to the bitter end... Enjoy...

* * *

**_ I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree_**  
  
The boy was talking idly in the graveyard, unaware that he was being watched. Christmas night, 1998. No matter how much time passed nothing changed. This defiled piece of grim that they called a city only became more enraptured with misery each year. That chocolate-haired boy was rambling about all the 'changes' of this new year. They weren't changes - they were repeating scenarios. One girl died... another boy got shot... someone's sad and crying... someone's going crazy at the emptiness in their soul... Always the same. The only thing that changed was the faces and names... Even this cheerful boy was locked in this cycle. Talking to the graves of loved ones, how much more pitiful could one get...?  
  
"What in tarnation! How'd Soujiro get here already?" awed a country accent. "Dang, he's fast!"  
  
The first man who had been watching the boy turned to see second gentlemen. He was abnormally tall, but the fact that his blinding blonde hair was spiked up to Heaven's gates added to that illusion. A deep red trenchcoat covered up a policeman's uniform and reaching down to his worn boots. Dancing eyes watched... and waited.  
  
**_Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the lovelight gleams  
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams_**  
  
"Cho," acknowledged the other man in a velvet purr. He had silky-black hair that normally shimmered in the daylight. His cinnamon eyes watched the country blonde with surprise. The long-sleeved, midnight top was ordinary enough, but the fact that he was wearing a long, silver skirt was... unique. High-heels were torturing his toes, as he stood behind one of the few trees in the graveyard. "What are you doing here, Cho?" sniffed the cross-dresser.  
  
"Nothing much," replied the blonde, sighing. "Poor Soujiro, he really misses those two."  
  
The said boy hadn't noticed the two presences, and, at the moment, was happily licking some gourmet candy canes.  
  
"Kamatari...," whispered Cho, studying the other man's face. "Why don't we pick up the kid after his done and go out for some Christmas dinner? Whaddya say?"  
  
Kamatari didn't answer, but was mesmerized as Soujiro revealed an evening gown and wrapped the dress around the woman's tombstone. He wished he could act so kindly towards the dead. But he couldn't...  
  
How dare they die in that fire! Who gave Shishio and Yumi the right to die? Why did they have to leave? All around Kamatari, everyone was leaving... That Kaoru chick was mad now... Kenshin Himura was dead... The doctor lost her love and was slowly crawling in a metal shell... The gang leader Zanza was close to death... The thief down at the school was ready to be picked up by Child Welfare's Services.... That child-hooker was gone... That police officer was falling into a maddening depression... His wife was as good as dead... Kamatari's love, Makoto Shishio, was gone... His enemy and fellow rival Yumi was just ashes... Their secretary Houji was dead as well... Cho had ran off to the other side of the city and got a new job... The kid Soujiro was working his way through college without anyone's help... And Kamatari... he was falling to pieces in the filthy snow.  
  
And he blamed them all for leaving him, knee-deep in sorrow and frost... They should have stayed... They should have lived...  
  
He didn't even notice when the blonde left his side to search out the boy. Cho and Soujiro would plan a Christmas dinner at some local Denny's or something... They would pathetically sing carols and tell tales of a jolly Saint Nick... But in the end, the void they all felt couldn't be filled with some stupid Christmas merriment. It was just another day that people highlighted on the calendar, but after all the highlighting and shopping, it was still just a normal day. Nothing changed on Christmas...  
  
Heck, Soujiro was living proof of that. No matter how many times he visited these graves, their occupants never came back... No one ever came back...  
  
**_ I'll be home for Christmas  
You can plan on me  
Please have snow and mistletoe  
And presents on the tree  
_**  
After they had been seated by a weary waitress, they ordered a round of French fries and milkshakes. Kamatari wasn't amused when the two other boys started belting out some warped version of "Frosty the Snowman." Then it became the war of the milkshakes. Grabbing spoons, the immature boys started catapulting the frothy shakes at each other. The cross-dresser ignored them, until they hit him square in the face.  
  
Laughter roared through the restaurant, vibrating the building.  
  
Before he could fight back, the manger came and yelled at Cho and Soujiro, threatening to kick them out if they didn't behave. Honestly, you'd think they were dealing with five-year-olds...  
  
"I'm going to go play a song," Kamatari muttered stiffly, opening his designer purse. He had spied the jukebox when they had first made their grand entrance, and the need for music had been irritating him like a scratchy dog-collar.  
  
But when he got up with his quarter, Soujiro jumped up and grabbed the coin out of the older man's hands.  
  
"HEY!" snapped Kamatari, but the boy just rushed off to the jukebox and swiftly punched in his song's number. "SOUJIRO -!"  
  
But the insult died on the ruby lips... A familiar tune was starting to fill the air... A harmony that was a part of the season's good tidings...  
  
"Merry Christmas, Kamatari," murmured the smiling boy.  
  
Kamatari's memory played back their last Christmas all the together. Twelve years ago and only the closest of the Juppongatana had be invited. That meant that only Shishio, Yumi, Houji, Soujiro, Cho, and Kamatari had be there, celebrating. It was then that Shishio had had Houji have the band play this song...  
  
**_ Christmas Eve will find me  
Where the lovelight gleams  
I'll be home for Christmas  
If only in my dreams  
_**  
The three men were dancing in the restaurant, unaware that they were being watched. Christmas night, 1998. No matter how much time passed nothing changed. This defiled piece of grim that they called a city only became more enraptured with misery each year. That chocolate-haired boy toasted the new year, hoping for 'changes' for the better. They weren't changes - they were repeating scenarios. One girl died... another boy got shot... someone's sad and crying... someone's going crazy at the emptiness in their soul... Always the same. The only thing that changed was the faces and names... Even the three men - the cheerful boy, the country man, and the melancholy cross-dresser - were trapped in this never-ending cycle.  
  
But tonight that didn't matter, and the jukebox cooed out the carol's last line:  
  
**_ "If.. only..in..my...dre...ams..."_**

* * *

**A/N's: **Arigato to all those people who have put up w/ my slow updating. Yes, this really is the last story. Sayonara for now! Love&Later, DJ


End file.
